Wicked Beat

Chapter 31

The next morning Rebekah woke alone. Her clothes were in a pile on the floor beside the bed. Apparently, Eric had retrieved them from the garage. She applied more salve to her tattoo before slipping into her clothes and going in search of the man who consumed her thoughts, her heart, her body, her soul.

She didn’t find him with his musical instruments or in the kitchen or in front of the TV. He wasn’t on the porch swing or in the garage. Neither was his car. He’d deserted her without letting her know where he was going. And because her car was still at the restaurant where she’d met him the night before, she was pretty much trapped. The Camaro wasn’t even close to running yet.

She returned to the kitchen and found a pot of coffee waiting.

Under a clean mug, she found a note.

I’ll be back soon. Make yourself at home. Eric She still didn’t know where he’d gone, but she was feeling a little less abandoned. At least he’d thought to leave her a note and make her coffee. She gulped a mug of black java and started thinking of all the things she wanted to do for his birthday. She was determined to make it the most special day of his life. Bored and more than a little lonely, she eventually went to the garage to tinker with the Camaro. The sooner she got it running, the sooner she could drive it. She was quite a mess by the time Eric returned a couple hours later. He climbed out of the car with a huge smile.

“You’ve got grease all over your face,” he told her, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

She had her hand deep in the engine compartment, tightening a bolt. He eased her T-shirt up and kissed her lower back inches above her new tattoo. “How does it feel?”

“A little sore. But not bad. Yours?”

“It’s a constant reminder of you.”

She grinned and stood upright to kiss the cleft in his chin. “Then it’s perfect. So where have you been all morning?”

He reached into his vest and retrieved a thick piece of paper from the inside of his vest. “I had this printed up,” he said and showed her a short music score. It only had two lines of music. One line was labeled as his and the other as hers.

“Is that from our tattoos?” she asked.

“Yeah. Let’s go play it together.”

She lifted her greasy hands. “I’m a mess.”

“It’ll wash.” He peeked into the open engine compartment.

“Any hope for the Camaro?”

She smiled, bouncing on her heels with excitement. “Yeah. I think it should start now. I switched the plugs, the distributer, and the carburetor. You should have seen the muck in the old one. I think a squirrel died in it or something.”

He laughed and opened the creaky driver’s side door for her.

She climbed behind the wheel. Anticipation killing her, Rebekah pumped the gas pedal twice and turned the key. It started right up; the engine was a bit hesitant from sitting idle so long, but it ran strong and loud. She heard a few knocks and pings, but it just needed to run. Rebekah gunned the gas pedal, and the car emitted a satisfying vroom.

“I can’t believe you got it started,” Eric yelled over the roar of the engine.

She beamed at him. “Hop in, we’ll take it for a spin.”

“And then you’ll play our song with me?”

“Of course. I can’t wait.”

Eric hit the button to open the garage door as he made his way around to the passenger side. Once he climbed into the car beside her, she backed out of the garage and turned around to take the long, winding drive.

The power of the engine was exhilarating, especially on the loose gravel.

“Yeah!” Eric shouted as Rebekah hit the gas, and the car fishtailed before gripping the road again.

At the end of the driveway, Rebekah spun onto the blacktop and pushed the car faster. She shifted into third, and the engine whirred in neutral before catching with a harsh shudder. “Transmission needs some work,” she said.

She turned her head to find him staring at her.

“What?”

He just smiled and shook his head slightly. She turned the car around at the end of someone’s driveway and headed back home.

She’d just entered their driveway when there was a loud squeal followed by a snap. “I think that was the fan belt.” She stopped the car, and it died.

“I guess she’s not quite ready for street racing yet,” Eric said.

“Not yet. But soon!” They left the car in the driveway and walked hand in hand to the house. He kissed her knuckles when they entered the kitchen. “Wash up, and meet me at the piano,” he said.

“Don’t I get a good morning kiss?”

“It’s almost noon.”

“So I’ll take a lunchtime kiss too.”

He kissed her. Twice. Neither kiss long or deep enough as far as she was concerned, but she could tell he was anxious to play their short duet, and she was anxious to hear it.

She scrubbed as much oil and grime from her hands as she could with lava soap and examined her nails with a grimace. She really could use a manicure, but she’d just end up breaking them off while working on the car anyway. She wondered if Eric regretted falling for a less-than-feminine woman.

She found him sitting at the piano bench in the family room, staring at the piece of music as if he were trying to set it on fire with his eyes. She slid onto the right half of the bench beside him.

He shifted closer so that her body was against his from calf to shoulder and slid his right arm around her lower back. He placed the fingers of her right hand on the proper keys and showed her the sequence of the notes. There were less than thirty notes in the little piece of music, but it moved her so profoundly she could scarcely breathe. She knew it was weird, but it sounded like her. Like who she was on the inside. If she had been a song, this joyous, hopeful little melody would be it. She couldn’t believe he could capture it so perfectly in a few notes.

“Do you think you’ve got it?” he asked as he helped her play it for the tenth time.

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly. “How did you do that?”

“What?”

“Capture me in a piece of music.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It just sort of came to me. Keep playing. I’ll add mine now.”

His left hand moved to a lower octave, and he joined her hesitant playing with a different melody. It sounded entirely different from hers. Still upbeat, but a little darker. It sounded like Eric. And when the two melodies were played together, they complemented each other perfectly.

“This is why we work together,” he said. “We’re different, but harmonious.”

She nodded in agreement, too awed to form words. The man really was a musical genius. He should be writing concertos and symphonies. No, she decided, he was where he belonged. He made Sinners’ music phenomenal and rocked millions.

She stopped playing her little string of notes and reached up to cup Eric’s cheek. He looked into her eyes. When she didn’t do anything but stare, he lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“Why don’t you take more credit?”

“Credit for what?”

“For writing Sinners’ music.”

“Because I don’t write it all. I arrange it.”

“What would they do with Brian’s disjointed solos and Sed’s words if it weren’t for you?”

“I’m sure they’d think of something.” He laughed. “It would probably sound like shit, but they’d think of something.”

“You’re a genius, baby, but you act—you act like a goofball most of the time.”

“Yeah, well, who wants to hang with a genius? Boring.”

“There’s nothing boring about you.”

“I have written a few things,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

“Really? Can I hear them?”

“They’re not ready yet.”

“Are they for Sinners’ new album?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. They’re more alternative rock than metal. Much too soft for Sinners.”

“I’d still love to hear them.” She grasped his hand.

He looked up and smiled. “Yeah?”

She nodded eagerly. “When they’re ready.”

He lowered his gaze, suddenly looking nervous. “You’re probably going to be mad at me for doing this,” he said, “but…”

He reached into the inner pocket of his vest and pulled out a little plastic bubble—the kind they filled with novelty “prizes” (aka junk made in China), so kids could hound their parents for quarters at grocery stores.

“Here.”

“What is it?”

“It took me nine tries, but I finally got one I liked,” he said.

“Open it.”

She quirked an eyebrow and popped open the container. A small, black spider dropped into her hand. She shrieked and tossed it into the air before tipping backward and almost falling off the piano bench.

Eric grabbed her to save her from a certain concussion and released her only once she’d regained her balance. He retrieved the plastic spider from the piano keyboard and extended it in her direction. She cringed. Even though she could tell it was fake and part of a cheap plastic Halloween ring, it still gave her the willies.

“You don’t like it?” he asked.

“Did you expect me to?”

“It reminded me of the time I rescued you from the spider in the hotel shower. Remember that? It was the morning after our first time. The day I started believing that someone could love me for me.

I thought your engagement ring should be significant in some way.”

“It significantly freaks me out,” she said. And then the enormity of his words sank in. “My engagement ring?”

He dug in his pocket and produced another plastic bubble. He took her hand and folded it around the novelty. “Maybe this one will be more to your liking.”

Her heart thudded. She was almost afraid to look. If another plastic spider tumbled into her hand, she was totally going to lose it.

She shook the container slightly, and the prize inside rattled loudly.

This one had some weight.

She popped the bubble open and a thick, platinum band tumbled into her palm. A full-carat princess-cut diamond seemed to be suspended in the ring’s setting by magic. She’d never seen such a unique yet beautiful ring in her life. It wasn’t too girly or too strong.

It was just right. She looked at Eric, trembling so hard, she feared she’d need some of that CPR he used so capably.

“Oh…” she whispered.

“Do you like it?”

Unable to form words, she nodded. He released a breath of relief.

“Will you wear it?”

She nodded again.

“And you promise to marry me?”

Nod.

He took the ring from her hand and slid it onto her left ring finger. It felt heavy. And cold. And foreign. And substantial.

And real.

“Tomorrow?”

Tomorrow… She almost nodded, but changed her mind and shook her head. “After my MRI.”

“When’s that again?”

“In ten more days.”

“A ten-day engagement sounds just about right. I guess Brian’s record of three days still stands.”

Rebekah chuckled. “You guys compete over everything, don’t you? If you have your heart set on beating Brian, you can take the ring back and ask me again eight days from today.”

“I’d rather not,” he murmured and lowered his head to kiss her.

“I’m too fuckin’ stoked that you accepted it to ever take it back.”

She gazed at the sparkling ring on her finger. Its beauty almost drew her attention from the grease under her fingernail. “I need to get my nails done. It’s so gorgeous, and my hands look terrible.”

“Your hands look perfect,” he said. He lifted her knuckles to his lips. “Perfect.”

Just beneath his lips, the diamond of her engagement ring sparkled in the light filtering through the curtains.

Her engagement ring. Engagement ring.

Rebekah’s vision blurred with tears. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart rate accelerated out of control.

“What’s wrong?” Eric asked breathlessly. “Why are you crying?”

She was crying? That would explain why her cheeks were wet and her nose was running. Why she couldn’t see his face or anything but smears of color. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Rebekah?”

She needed a minute to collect herself. Putting her head between her knees would probably be her best bet. She flipped forward and banged her head on the keyboard with a discordant blam!

She was going to get married! A dream she had all but given up on. She hadn’t thought any man in the world would want to marry a woman who could never give him a family, and here she was engaged not to any man, but the most wonderful man she’d ever known. The man she loved so much she couldn’t imagine a single day without him. The man who probably thought she’d lost her mind.

“Reb?” he whispered as he tried to pry her forehead from the keyboard.

She gulped air.

“Look, if you changed your mind about getting married—” No! She sat up abruptly and lifted her hand to cover his mouth, but managed to accidentally hit him in the nose. Her hand was shaking so hard, she was surprised it found his face at all.

She shook her head vigorously. “Of course I d-didn’t change m-my mind. I’m j-just so… so… h-happy.”

Eric hesitated and wrapped a comforting arm around her lower back. “You don’t look happy.”

She turned to face him on the bench, wrapped both arms around his neck, and sought his mouth. Good thing he had better aim than she did. He kissed her deeply, passionately, lips tugging hers with a gentle suction, tongue brushing her upper lip.

“I love you,” she whispered, trailing kisses along his stubblerough jaw.

“Forever?”

“For the rest of my life,” she said breathlessly. And her mortality reared its ugly head again. What if she had to leave him alone before she was ready to go?

He kissed the tears off her cheeks. “Forever,” he said, holding her hair in tight fists so he could tilt her head back and kiss her lips. His kiss was hard and deep, almost punishing. “It has to be forever, Rebekah.”

“But if the cancer comes back, if I die…” She took a deep, ragged breath. She didn’t want to talk about these things, but they couldn’t hide from these real possibilities. That’s why she wanted to wait to marry him until after her MRI. “I don’t want you to be alone, Eric.”

“Forever, Rebekah.” His resolute stare told her he wasn’t backing down on this.

“Forever,” she agreed breathlessly.

He cradled her against his chest and held her for all he was worth. “Forever.”

She clung to him, sobbing. Tears drenched his shirt, but he didn’t let her go. She knew with certainty he never would. Not even if it was best for him. She let the fear find her. She’d been pretending it didn’t exist for so long that it felt good to recognize it. Confront it. And even share it with Eric. “I’m scared. So scared that I’ll get sick again.”

“It’s okay. I’m scared too. But no matter how scared I am, I won’t run.”

Isaac had given her the strength to fight when she’d been sick.

To face death with her head high. Eric gave her the strength to be alive. Fully alive. And now that she had so much to live for, she wasn’t sure she could face death again.

She leaned away and wiped her tears on the hem of her T-shirt.

“I’m sorry I fell apart. I really am happy you want to marry me. Even if it is selfish of me to accept.”

“I thought you’d be mad that I went out and bought your ring on my own. I woke up beside you this morning, watched you sleep for a while, and decided I couldn’t wait. Do you really like it?”

“I love it. You. I love you.”

“You’d better. I had to take out a second mortgage to afford that sucker.”

She smiled, knowing that he needed a reprieve from the emotional barrage she’d just subjected him to. “Suck?” She licked her lips and reached for his fly. “Well, if you insist.”